Seduced by Darkness
by Lieutenant Caine
Summary: Taker meant only to satisfy his dark lustful desires, but somewhere along the line something changed. Rated T for the moment. Please see author's note at the end of this first chapter before any of you give me a tombstone piledriver or last ride.
1. Chapter 1

**Seduced by Darkness**

Muted candlelight flickered here and there throughout the chamber, casting fantastic shadows against the ceiling and over the floor. Dark tapestries shrouded the walls, shutting out any possibility of natural light and leaving the room in perpetual dimness. The furniture scattered throughout the area was heavy mahogany, dark and sinister in appearance. Dragons and demons slithered through the ornate carvings on the massive headboard of the bed. Thick black carpet muted all sound, leaving the room as silent as a tomb. Of the room's two occupants, only one was aware of the forbidding atmosphere and it suited his twisted soul perfectly. A wicked smile curved his lips as he watched and waited patiently.

Awareness returned slowly to the limp form tied to the ominous symbol that hung from the ceiling of the dimly lit room just above the king sized bed. A moan fell from rose-petal soft lips and a pair of bewildered, café brown eyes fluttered open. Another sound issued from the throat, somewhere between and groan and a gasp as the frightened eyes took in the surroundings. The head, which was crowned by a gorgeous riot of soft long brown curls whipped to the left and then back to the right. Panic flooded the beautiful eyes and sought release in tears and a voice that vibrated with pain and fear.

"Oh, god where am I? Why am I tied like this?"

With this frightened outburst came a violent shaking of the arms and body in a vain effort to free itself from the bindings that held it securely to the hideous travesty of a cross.

Unfolding himself from the deep leather chair that sat opposite the great bed, the hooded figure stood up and stepped toward the writhing form and spoke.

"You'll only hurt yourself more, Princess. Stop fighting." The deep voice had the quality of sand paper covered by velvet; rough, yet at the same time oddly soothing.

"Why…why are you doing this? What do you want? Please, please let me go." The voice was choked with terror.

"Hmmm. Let you go. And if I let you go will you run?" Mesmerizing green eyes stared up at the frightened brown ones of his captive, measuring her intent. Seeing only fear and pain reflected in her eyes, he stepped next to the ebony table that sat near the head of the bed, and pressed a switch. Slowly the wicked contraption that held his prisoner descended until it was resting flat against the bed. With an economy of motion, he released her bonds and stepped back from the bed, content for the moment to merely watch her.

She slowly sat up on the edge of the bed, whimpering softly in pain as blood flow returned to her wrists and ankles. All the while she sat there trying to regain her bearings after being suspended helpless for so long, her captor watched her. His gaze lingered on the tousled, soft brown curls that crowned her head and cascaded down her back. For a moment he shut his eyes, remembering the feel of that softness in his hands the night before, then he resumed his visual inspection of her. The sensual curves of her body called to him and his hands curled into tight fists with his effort at controlling the raging desire that threatened to boil to the surface of his control. Brown eyes that were currently sparkling with tears peeked out from a beautiful face. Delicate cheekbones held a hint of tantalizing color. Luscious lips beckoned to him and he only barely stifled a low growl. Such beauty waiting for him to plunder. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, he forced himself to remain calm.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Wha..what?" she was shocked at the gentle tone from the giant figure in front of her.

"Are you thirsty?" he repeated.

The question seemed to suddenly impress on her just how thirsty she really was. She licked her lips and nodded, "yes."

From seemingly out of thin air, he produced a crystal goblet of water, and she thought she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She reached a hesitant hand toward the tempting sight only to have her wrist captured by his free hand. Her eyes widened and she gasped aloud, "please…"

"Shhh," he soothed, drawing her easily toward him as he might have done a child. "Let me," he murmured as he lifted the glass toward her trembling mouth. The touch of the cool glass against her lips momentarily drove her fear to the background and she drank greedily, closing her eyes and almost moaning in relief as the cool liquid slid down her throat.

"Slowly," he cautioned, "you'll choke. Drink it slowly, Princess."

A drop of water escaped her mouth and began a slow descent over her bottom lip. The sight of her tongue flicking out to capture that runaway droplet snapped something deep inside him and he reacted sharply.

With a growl he jerked the glass from her reach, threw it to the floor and jerked her flush against his massive chest. One huge hand went to her waist to anchor her to him and the other curved behind her head, forcing it backward and exposing the delicate skin of her throat to his darkening gaze.

"I've waited just about long enough for this," he hissed. His green eyes were almost black with wicked desire.

He lowered his head and began devouring the frightened pulse racing in the slender neck.

"No, please…" she gasped. She twisted frantically this way and that in an effort to get away from him but he was too strong for her.

His lips moved roughly over her throat and up along the side of her jaw before skimming toward her mouth. For a heartbeat he hesitated and then captured her lips in a hard, demanding kiss. His body arched into hers, giving her no chance to resist, rather dominating her with his greater strength. Only when he heard her gasping for air, did he release his hold on her. For a moment he glared at her and then he shoved her from him almost violently, sending her crashing to the floor at his feet. He looked down at her dispassionately as she lay there weeping softly.

"You will be mine, willingly," he intoned in an ominous voice. "You will come to me and you will completely surrender."

With that, he turned and left the room. The sound of the lock grating closed, was to her ears a death knell.

No one who had ever been taken captive by the Undertaker had ever returned or been seen again.

TBC

A/N To all the fans of this particular fandom, I plead for your indulgence. This is not my usual comfort zone. My normal writing covers CSI Miami. I've been writing for that ship since 09, but a friend of mine who is a devout WWE fan and an Undertaker follower, posed an interesting story idea when she posed the thought of a beautiful young woman being kidnapped and seduced by Undertaker. His original intent is merely to satisfy his evil desires, but somewhere along the line he falls in love with her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

With the closing of the door came an all pervading silence that plunged the room into a tomblike stillness. It was as though time itself had stopped all forward motion, waiting to see the outcome of the encounter between the Lord of Darkness and the motionless female that lay crumpled on the floor.

At length she stirred and raised herself up from her prone position. Her face was streaked with tears and blotchy with emotion. Her soft brown hair clung to her neck, plastered to her skin in damp tendrils. Her clothing was terribly disheveled from the rough handling she'd endured. Yet in spite of all this, she was still stunningly beautiful.

Presently she gathered enough courage to begin a timid exploration of her prison. She made her way slowly around the dismal chamber, taking in every detail. Each nuance spoke volumes to her about the nature of her captor and she grew more and more disheartened with each passing second. Her footsteps took her full circle back to the massive doors that stood sentinel over the room.

For long moments she stared at the hideous skulls etched into the silver doorknobs and failed to suppress a grimace of revulsion. She knew the doors were locked. Her ears had picked up the unmistakable sound of tumblers falling into place as the Undertaker had stormed from the room, yet she raised a shaking hand toward the doorknob anyway. Barely had her skin made contact with the grotesque piece of metalwork than the door began a slow inward arc, propelled open by some unseen force from without. Terror lent wings to her feet and she sought refuge in the only place she could find, behind the massive chair her captor had lounged in not more than an hour before. She watched in terrified fascination as the door opened and the largest, darkest human being she had ever seen entered the room.

This newest visitor carried a large, polished black tray laden with food and several containers of drink. Without a word, he began arranging the items in a pleasing manner on the table beside the bed. From one of the carafes he poured water into a goblet that was the twin of the one lying shattered on the floor. Only after he had completely finished his task did he even acknowledge the woman's presence. He looked directly at her as though he had known before entering where she would seek cover.

"The master says that you are to eat…now."

He turned to leave and was a mere heartbeat from the doors when the woman's panicked voice stopped him.

"Please…wait."

Slowly he turned back to face her and she felt a chill go through her at the lifeless quality of his eyes. They were dead, black, as though he had no soul or emotions.

"Yes?" he said blankly.

"Who are…who are you, and what does he want?"

For a brief moment, uncertainty sat on the ebony face, and then he answered in a monotone, "I am…Viscera. You are here because he wants you."

This seemed to be the extent of information the man named Viscera would give because he turned once again and started out the door.

Gathering up a shred of courage from her soul, the woman stepped out from behind the chair and took several faltering steps toward the man. She reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder intending to stop him from leaving. His reaction was totally unexpected.

With a snarl he spun around and grasped her by the neck, lifting her high in to the air as easily as if she were weightless. She dangled there in his fearsome paw, gasping and choking, clawing desperately at his hand in an attempt to loosen it from her throat.

"Don't ever touch me," he snapped.

"Please…" she choked out from lips that were already turning blue. "Please…don't kill…me…"

Sparkles burst across her vision and then darkness approached. Just before its soothing embrace claimed her, the door exploded open and the Lord of Darkness himself stormed into the room. His eyes took in the hellish scene and dark fury enveloped him, transforming him from a man into a terrifying thing of pure malice and rage.

"Vicsera! I told you not to touch her!" The voice cracked like a whip and instantly Viscera obeyed, releasing his hold on the now unconscious woman.

She never felt the impact of her body hitting the floor. Never saw the look of abject terror cross the face of her antagonist. Never saw the vicious punishment that was dealt out by an enraged Undertaker.

With astonishing agility, Undertaker pounced on his wayward servant and clapped one huge hand around Viscera's throat, jerking him high in the air in much the same manner that Viscera had done with the female. In almost the same motion then, Undertaker threw Viscera back to the floor in a mighty choke slam. Viscera fell with a thunderous crash and lay convulsing slightly as every nerve ending in his enormous bulk sent pain screaming throughout his system. He didn't even have the strength to move out of the way when Undertaker aimed a wicked kick to his ribs; he just groaned and absorbed the blow.

Bending low over the pain contorted face of his servant, Undertaker hissed in an evil voice, "You'd better hope there aren't any bruises on her neck. If there are…" He drew his right hand across his throat in a slashing motion, his message crystal clear. _I will kill you. _"Now get out of here before I kill you where you lay."

Viscera staggered to his feet and stumbled out the door, leaving Undertaker once again standing in the middle of the room with an insensate female lying at his feet.

Undertaker stood with hands on hips for a moment before bending down and with gentleness that made a mockery of his terrible strength, he lifted the woman into his arms and carried her to the bed. Carefully he laid her back against the pillows. He reached out one black gloved hand to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. The feel of her satin soft skin beneath his exposed fingers, softened the look on his face, giving him an almost handsome appearance. He stroked his fingers over her cheek and murmured softly.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I swear he will never touch you again. You have my word."

Drawn then as though by a magnet, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

The touch of his lips wrought an instant reaction. She snapped to awareness and opened her eyes to the awesome sight of the Undertaker leaning down over her. He was close enough that she could see the flecks of blue in his stunning green eyes and the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. His hair hung down over his shoulder and brushed against her neck. His breath was warm on her face in a manner not at all unpleasant. And his lips. She shivered slightly at the remembered feel of his lips crushing hers.

"Hello, Princess," he said and smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Almost instinctively the woman drew back from Undertaker in spite of the smile that almost succeeded in making him look less monstrous. The nearness of his fearsome presence sent chills skittering over her body from head to toe. She shrank as far as possible into the soft pillow beneath her head and still it left her uncomfortably close to the massive man seated on the bed beside her. Her breath lodged in her throat when he reached out one huge hand and cupped the side of her face gently, turning her head to the side so he could see her throat.

Anger flittered over the face of the Undertaker at the sight of the already forming bruises he saw on the slender throat, and he muttered, "I swear he will pay for this." As he spoke, his fingers stroked her skin lightly sending chills of a different sort through her system.

The unexpected whisper of pleasure that accompanied Undertaker's touch sent confusion running riot through the woman's system and she drew back even further from him, eyes wide with fear.

Undertaker's sharp eyes caught her response and he scowled down at her before standing up and moving away from the bed. He snorted once in irritation before turning his attention to the table containing the food Viscera had delivered. Without looking back at the woman, he growled out, "I hope you're hungry, Princess."

Fearful though she was, she dredged up enough to courage to answer him back.

"I have a name."

The tiny edge of defiance in her voice did not go unnoticed by her captor and Undertaker turned back to look at her, "Well, what is it?" he growled.

"My name is Raquel," she answered.

"Raquel? Okay, Raguel are you hungry?" Undertaker repeated his previous question with just a shade more irritation in his voice.

"I don't...I don't know..." Raquel stammered out

"You don't know? What do you mean, you don't know! Either you are or you aren't. Now, ARE YOU HUNGRY?" Thunder rumbled through Undertaker's voice and lightning bolts of anger flashed in his eyes.

A frightened nod was all she could answer in response and this seemed to further increase the ire of her captor. In one long stride he was back at the side of the bed, bending down over her, his hand clamped brutally tight on her shoulder and his eyes boring into hers. This time there was no gentleness in his touch as he roughly forced her to stand up and then drew her toward the table that held the food. "Damn it, woman..." Undertaker growled fiercely.

"Look...there's ham and cheddar cheese and salami and everything you need to make a deli sandwich. There's water and juice to drink. Now I'll ask you again, Raquel...ARE YOU HUNGRY?"

Her brown eyes, filled with terror, looked up into the fury twisted face obove hers and tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

The sight of her obvious emotional distress seemed to trigger an even more violent response in Undertaker. With a roar of pure rage, he clamped one hand around the back of her head, jerked her toward him and glared down into her face.

"Why won't you answer me?" he ground out from between tightly clenched teeth. "I asked you a simple question, and all you can do is turn on the water works."

The only response she gave him was a frantic effort to twist out of his vice-like grip. Desperately she flung herself backward and side to side, to no avail. Lunging and pulling against him she finally began to beg him to let her go. "Please, please let me go. Let me go!"

An amused grin spread over Undertake's face. "Let you go? I don't think so, Princess," he taunted her. "I like the feel of your body moving against mine." His words served as inspiration for Raquel to fight even harder for freedom. She succeeded only in further entertaining the massive man holding her against his chest. "You know," he smirked and pulled her even closer to him, " you remind me of a little filly I had once, growing up on my gradnfather's farm in South Texas. She was a feisty little thing just like you. All it took to break her was a lot of firm handling to show her who was boss."

"I'm not a horse," she spat out, genuine anger beginning to rival her fear. "Let me go!"

"Not a chance, Princess..."

Somehow she managed to get one hand free from his hold and with all her frightened strength she drew back and aimed a slap across his face.

Almost immediately she realized the enormity of her error. Undertaker's eyes widened and his face metamorphsed into a mask of demonic fury.

"You will pay for that," he hissed, drawing her back up to his chest into an even tighter hold until she was eye to eye with him and her feet were dangling off the floor.

With those words her only warning, his mouth came crashing down on hers. She barely had time to drag in a startled breath before he was almost literally forcing the air from her lungs in a violent, demanding kiss. His tongue speared deep into her mouth without regard. The rough stroking of his tongue against hers left her with no question as to his thoughts as he violently plundered her lips and mouth. For long moments Undertaker forced his will on her, imposing himself on her in no uncertain terms. But gradually, as she stopped fighting him out of sheer self-preservation, his touch became less demanding and more sensual. He still held her close to him but his arms were no longer steel bands crushing her soul from her body. They seemed now to cradle her to him. As her lack of resistance registered with his brain, his body acted accordingly. His hands began a slow glide over her back and shoulders. And his lips eased their bruising pressure against hers until they were at last moving softly over hers.

At last he lifted his head and looked down into her face. Raquel's cheeks were wet with tears and her lips were swollen from the violence of his kisses. The sight of her completely devastated state seemed to diffuse his anger, and he relaxed. For a moment he said nothing. Then with controlled gentleness, he set her away from him and looked over at the table.

"At this rate, you'll never get anything to eat. I'll ask you one more time. Are you hungry, Princess."

Silence hung suspended in the air until it was broken by a single quiet word from her lips, "Yes."

"That's better. I'll make you a sandwich."

TBC


End file.
